For a while, I tried to fix burnout with tiny mindful moments.

A 10-minute walk here. A cup of tea there. A sticky note on my mirror that said “you’ve got this” while my inbox screamed “actually, you don’t.”

I thought mindfulness would save me.

Spoiler: it didn’t.

Not on its own, anyway.

Sure, the deep breaths helped. But no amount of breathwork could cancel out the chaos of a job that drained me to the point of invisibility. I was journaling affirmations in the morning and doom-scrolling by lunch. I was meditating in the car, just to sit through meetings that made me question my life choices.

I wasn’t lazy. I was misaligned.

I didn’t need a better planner. I needed a better life.

So I started paying attention—not to my time, but to my energy.

What gave me life?

What took it away?

When did I feel most like myself?

The truth hit me harder than I expected.

My job wasn’t aligned with the person I was becoming.

It didn’t support the lifestyle I wanted.

The management style left me overworked and under-trusted.

And honestly, the only thing it did consistently was pay the bills.

It wasn’t a career.

It was a soul-sucking subscription I forgot to cancel.

I didn’t quit on a whim.

I quit because staying would’ve meant quitting on myself.

I gave myself permission to build a life that made sense.

A life where I hike every day.

Where I work in alignment with my creativity, my values, and my body’s natural rhythm.

A life with more sunlight.

And no, it wasn’t an easy decision.

I wrestled with fear. I worried about money. I overthought everything.

But eventually, I hit a wall—and then I smashed right through it.

I’ve always believed in going beyond the “deferred life plan”—that idea John Doerr talks about, where we work tirelessly now so we can live later. I know what it feels like to be a mercenary, chasing a paycheck at the cost of my joy. But his words hit me: “From mercenary to missionary.” I’m no longer waiting for someday. 

Today, I’m on a mission to find work that aligns with my values—where creativity, connection, and well-being aren’t optional extras, but integral to everything I do.

This part?

This is where things start to feel different.

Here’s what alignment has given me (and what it might give you too):

Leaving the “safe” thing gave me the courage to trust myself again. Turns out the real safety was in choosing what felt right, not what looked good on paper.

I stopped pushing. I started flowing.

This is the law of least effort in action—when your job, lifestyle, and values work together, things stop feeling so heavy.

I stopped taking jobs because I had to, and started seeking work that matched who I was becoming. Work that didn’t feel like punishment for having ambition.

Now, I get to watch the sunrise from a trail instead of from behind a steering wheel in traffic.

I still work. I still have goals.

But they no longer cost me my peace.

If you’re trying to mindful morning routine your way through a job that doesn’t align with your values, it might not be you.

It might be the system you’re forcing yourself to survive in.

There is power in leaving.

There is power in starting over.

And there is power in deciding that your joy is worth the risk.

Your dream life doesn’t require you to hustle harder.

It requires you to get honest.

About what you want.

About what you’re done tolerating.

And about the kind of life that makes you feel alive.

• Burnout is a signal, not a failure.

• Alignment feels like breathing deeper for the first time in years.

• You are allowed to want more ease, more joy, more time outside.

• You’re not asking for too much. You’re remembering what you deserve.